


There Are No Grey Piano Keys

by hypokalaemia



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Breakups, Depression, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Graphic mention of self-harm, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, I think?, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s) (minor), Phan - Freeform, Pianist Dan Howell, Should probably clarify deppy doesn’t breakup, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Suicide, also dont read the last couple tags if you are iffy about spoilers, alternative universe, heart broken phil, ill try keep all the general non spoilery stuff upfront and then the more spoilery stuff, its a previous relationship, no smut tho :), sad ;-;, to a very little degree canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypokalaemia/pseuds/hypokalaemia
Summary: The one where Dan is a broke pianist, and phil a broken music enthusiast





	1. ~Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a edited re-upload from my wattpad account. This work was written between September 2016 and early January 2017, a very bad time in my life where I suffered heavily from my then depression. If you find yourself thinking, wow this is hella sad and fucked up, is the author ok? Then yes, I am , now, not when i wrote this, but now. So take that in mind when reading, I wasn’t in the best of places and it can get rather graphic, so proceed with some caution.
> 
> Updates on Mondays. Or whenever the fuck I feel like apparently

This was with out doubt the worst day off Phil’s entire life. Everything had gone wrong. He was sat on the sofa, his hands in his hair, his whole life in shreds in front of him, but he was not crying. He could not cry, his whole body just felt so achingly numb.

_Why on earth did he leave? What did I do wrong?_

Those two sentences kept spinning in his head, but he had answers to none of them. They had had a perfect relationship, the kind you only see in movies. They had been together for almost three years. They were planning on moving in together. Planning on getting a puppy. Planning a future together. It was just that teeny-tiny little fact that there were no "they" anymore, just Broken dreams of the future glimmering in razor sharp shards.

The only light that was left in Phil’s life was the music. He himself could not play if so his life was at the stake, but others could and that was the only flicker of light left in his life. It was through the music they had met; two lonely music enthusiasts in the crowd of a small piano concert. It had been magical, they had been talking the whole night and when the concert was over they had exchanged numbers. Phil soon discovered that his former favourite memory just made him if possible even more miserable and he finally felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. Hot and wet they poured down his face easing the pain and leavening nothing but a warm and dull tiredness behind. As the sun sunk down, hiding behind the distant skyline and dusk settled, Phil finally fell asleep on the sofa, still weeping exhaustedly.

When he with tear streaks on his cheeks woke up he stretched his back and reached for his phone on the coffee table to check the time, but the sight that met him was like a silver dagger right through his heart. How could he had forgotten that his lock screen was them? He flung the phone across the room, hearing it shatter when it landed, and launched him self onto the sofa sobbing once more.

_How could I forget that? I cannot take this any longer._

As a devastating new idea flickered to life in his mind a new kind of determination filled his eyes; he was going to end it all, who would miss him anyway? 

_No, I can not do this. Not yet. Get closure, one last concert. Then I will end it all._

He sat up straight, wiping the tears from his puffy eyes. His eyes landed on his glasses that lay neatly folded on the windowsill. He stood up swayingly and in a slow and blurry pace he walked towards the window to pick up his glasses. Carefully he placed them down on the bridge of his nose and immediately his sight became much clearer. In the same slow pace he started roaming the room looking for his computer. He could just have looked it up on his phone, but right now he could not even handle the sight of it. Either way was it probably sufficiently smashed to uselessness. After a few moments of looking around he found it tucked away under a heap of newspapers and cups of coffe now only holding the stale dregs of delicious bean juice. He brushed the papers and cups of it with as much carefulness as a bull in a china shop, vaguely reflecting upon the sound of china chattering but couldn’t care enough to take further notice. 

Carefully he carried the computer back to the sofa, but mid step he stopped dead in his tracks; the sofa carried too many bad memories from the previous hours, so without hesitating he turned ‘round and sat down in the kitchen instead. He gently placed the computer on the flat surface, littered with bread crumbs, another horrible memory from the last breakfast. The breakfast when Isaac had told him he wanted them to go separate ways. Phil had thrown a tantrum before he had settled into this awful feeling of numbness. Firmly pressing the power button he waited for the computer to boot-up. As the computer started with a soft humming he nervously opened the web browser.

_Have the internet always been this slow?_

When the browser finally started he immediately tapped the search bar and typed in "concert Manchester October". As the computer slowly loaded the search results Phil anxiously tapped his finger against the table. A few bread crumbs got stuck to his clammy finger, but he was too anxious to take notice. When the computer finally had loaded the search results he simply clicked the first one to come up, a big concert with a much famous band, two months prior.

_No, no, no! I need something tonight!_

Just a few minutes later he had managed to find his concert for the evening, forever, "Aspiring pianist Daniel Howell To play at the city hall". He did not even bother to check the songs which would be playing, it did not matter. He knew bare nothing, except that it was in the city hall that very evening at six pm and the name of the young musician. For the first time in god knows how long, he checked his watch, it showed three thirty five pm

_I might as well look my best for my last day on earth!_

He stood up chuckling slightly, it was such a bizarre thought. His last day on earth, the thought should frighten him, but it didn’t, the fact that it didn’t was maybe he only thing he actually felt fear in the face of. He started walking slowly towards his bedroom, he had at least two hours to get ready, heaps of agonisingly slow, treacle-like time. He stood in front of his wardrobe with no idea whatsoever as to what he was going to wear, he had always been kinda a happy go lucky guy and dressed according to that. Everything was so awfully colourful, none of these clothes matched his mood in any sort of way, but after what felt like hours of trying on and then discarding clothes, he finally managed to settle on his regular pair of black skinny jeans and a red button up.

_Awful! And therefore sadly fitting for me._

When he had finally gotten dressed, he ventured with certain tentativeness back into the lounge. He walked slowly and on edge to such a degree it felt as though he was balancing on a knives edge. It felt as if he was tiptoeing around a mystical dangerous beast ready to pounce on him at any moment. That of course didn’t happen, and he reached the place where he had flung his poor innocent cell and picked it up into his shaking hand with such a strong feeling of repulse it might as well have personally offended him and his whole extended family. Barely daring to look at it more than for a few seconds at a time he coaxed out the sim card out of its slot where it had lain so snuggly. Without further care he dropped the phone back down and left the room. He knew he had his brothers old phone laying around somewhere since his had gone missing for two full months in the spring. 

Needing barely any searching at all he found the old phone and slotted the precious tiny bit of plastic into the gaping hole at the side of the phone. After a few minutes he was all set, time still as slow as if it had never thought to move in the first place.

He had again found himself sat at his dinner table completely ready, but he had still twenty minutes before he had to go.  
His mind begun to wander places, places he would have been terrified of normally, but today was not normal so he let his mind wander these places.

_How should I kill myself? What is the easiest way? The least painful one? Hanging myself? Pills? Jumping off a bridge?_

As he woke his self up from those morbid thoughts to check the time, he realised that it he should already be on his way if he did not wish to run late. With that as a motivator he hurried out off the flat grabbing the car keys on his way. He struggled a little to get into his minimal car in his stressed state of mind, but soon managed and drove off quickly towards the city hall. The car radio played bland pop music as always, but he really did not mind, at least it kept him from hearing the agonised cries his mind emitted.

Outside the city hall there were already a smaller crowd. He parked his car and locked it before he walked hastily towards the building in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birth to me, lads


	2. ~broke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ain’t no Monday, I hear you say. But well, I’m sick with too much time on my hands and the opportunity to excuse this as a “””birthday gift””” for the lester man. So there’s that

Sometimes life just isn’t fair. Dan came from a family of musicians, they were all rather successful except, Dan. Not only where they much more successful than Dan, they were also hugely homophobic. So when Dan finally worked up the courage to come out to them not knowing his family's true colours, they kicked him out. That had been almost three years ago. He had been twenty two at the time. He had been given one month to find a flat and here he remained to this day. The flat was extremely dull, the only thing really worth anything, be it financially or emotionally, was the piano. One of the few things he had gotten to keep when they had chucked him out. Maybe they had taken enough pity in him to let him keep it, maybe it was in spite of his in their eyes minuscule musical talent. 

He sat in front of the Piano like so many times before, but this time he really could not focus on playing although he really should. He had his first concert in months tonight at the city hall, and everything needed to be absolutely perfect.  
It was just that he really could not focus in the slightest. His mind was filled up with anxious thoughts. He was really broke, thigh deep in debt and if rent came in late once more he would be kicked out off the flat.

_how on earth am i going to get through this?_

 

Dan felt really bad for himself. At the moment he just felt like calling off the whole thing and just lay down bawling his eyes out, rolling in pity and self-hatred. Sadly he could not do that because if he did he would not be able to keep the flat and that was nothing short of a fact. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes and sighed before he started playing once again. This was probably the closest to anything akin to musical success he would ever come, a tiny gig at the city hall.

_WoO, go team dan howell!_

A few hours later he stopped playing and checked the time, three forty seven pm. In one hour he had to be there, preferably also somewhat ready. Anticipation churned in his stomach. He tried to calm his raging nerves, but failed rather miserably only making himself more anxious. He tried to keep his mind off the concert by thinking of something completely different, but the only thing that came up in his distressed brain was his ex boyfriend, Lloyd.

_it had been a calm sunday morning. i had slept at friends place the night before due to the fact that it had gotten really late and i am more than a little scared of the dark. when i came home around eleven the morning after, i noticed something was wrong. where was lloyd? he should be home at this hour, he shouldn’t not be home at all! all the same suffocated the void of lloyd’s anti-presence me. no one had come to greet me as i stepped through the door. not even a weak, broken and muffled hello through the bedroom door. being the naïve kid i was, i figured that he was asleep, so without hesitating i had barrelled towards our shared bedroom; well it is only mine nowadays, but anyhow, the door stood slightly ajar. which was odd as he was a man of habit and one of those habits were to never ever under any circumstance sleep with an open door. all the same was it open, so i opened it just a tad bit more to find lloyd lying on the bed sleeping deeply. a little bit too deeply. my heartbeat hard inside my constricted chest. i moved slowly towards him; as if i was about to scare him, when in reality i was the one to be scared, scared to find out why he still slept. in no time, far too little time, i reached our bed, hesitating slightly. i bent forward to shake him, just wake him up. when he would not wake up despite me shaking him with all the force i could possibly muster, i started to rather harshly slap his cheeks. it felt horrible, an act of utter desperation. when even that failed to wake him up i had to grab every single bit of courage i had in me, not to run away and hide curled up into a little ball, but instead bend over even more. i put my head towards his chest, my heart beating faster then it ever had before, and i listened, i listened after any sign of life. but i heard nothing, nothing but my own heart thumping in my ears. this was when i broke down completely. i just sat on the floor leaning against the bed containing my dead boyfriend in the dark, crying. i cried like i had never cried before, it took several hours before i had gathered myself enough to even call 999, and when they came i could not do anything. I could barely speak. complete apathy. they took him away from me and i just sat there completely numb, watching it happen in front of my eyes like some twisted movie. he had been my number one motivation when it came to playing the piano. i was about to give it up, get a real job, when i in the last second realised that i could not give it up. i had to continue playing, for his sake, and so i did. that was eight months ago, and i have not been able feel since. nothing but the deepest longing._

He shook his head slightly, standing up and once more checking the time. He had gotten lost in thoughts, again. With a disgruntled sigh he pushed the Piano chair slightly backwards so that he would be able to get his long legs free of its trappings. He had not eaten for whole day, so he started walking towards the tiny and worn out kitchen nook. He often got lost in thoughts nowadays, always about the same thing, Lloyd. His friends had told him to move on but he couldn’t, not yet. Not ever.

_maybe it would be for the best if i got kicked out, this whole place reminds me of him anyway_

He checked the fridge for anything edible, which was more of a challenge than it should ever be, seeing that he was completely broke, but he managed to find a can of stale ravioli in a cupboard that he warmed on the stove. It tasted horrible, and he did not even want to know when the expiration date had been, but he could not really afford to be picky at the moment. So he pinched his nose and swallowed the disgusting concoction in the biggest mouthfuls he possibly could. When he had eaten and washed his plate he checked the clock once again, four twenty seven pm.

_where the shitting-fuck did the time go?_

The fact that he did not have a car for pretty obvious reasons meant that he had to walk the entire way to the where he was performing, a walk on at least 25 minuets, if you were fit. He needed to be at the city hall in a little less than thirty five minutes. The fancy suit he was loaning from the city hall for his appearance where already there but getting his hair done he had to manage himself. Even if he hadn’t planned doing something about his unruly curls he would have been short of time, so there where no where in hell he was going to get it under control.

_eh mush it up enough and call it fashion_

He felt truly miserable as he walked down the pavement towards the city hall. The only feeling he felt being anxiety, was not helping either. Trying to keep his thoughts off anything connected to either the concert or his ex boyfriend; he took in so much of his surroundings as possible. It would have been a lie to say that there wasn’t one part of the surroundings he engulfed a little bit extra. He was walking by a house filled with flats just like all the rest, but walking by this one in particular, he on a whim looked up into one of the windows and the sight made him go slightly red. In the window was one of the most handsome men he had ever laid his eyes on visible, standing bare chested. He would gladly have stood there for the rest of the day, just watching that handsome raven haired man, but he had places to be, pianos to play, and either way was it not really socially acceptable to spend your days staring into handsome strangers bedrooms.

_but boy do i wish it was socially acceptable to do so_

And for the first time in eight months Dan felt another kind of longing. Longing that didn’t cause a bleeding wound in his chest just by thinking of it. A longing that more felt like a small tugging urge to get to touch that man sculpted by god himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If u want to read suckier version on la wattpad: https://my.w.tt/UiNb/XOhVKip77J


	3. ~Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me not posting in favour of committing to a uploading schedule? Highly unlikely, but still seemingly doable, huh
> 
> Unbeta-ed (as always) cos I don’t have beta, so there you have why there’s probably quite some typos or poor wordings.

Phil felt anxious, really anxious. He could not figure out why he felt that way. Sure it was his last night alive and all, but it was not that he was nervous about. It was the concert. He had no idea why, it should just be a concert like all the others.

_Calm down! It's just a small concert, I'm acting like it is me who's about to go up on stage and perform!_

Standing in the small crowd that was gathering in front of the venue, Phil felt at home. All the people surrounding him were there for the same reason as him. That thought actually helped Phil a lot, it calmed him.

_This is where I belong. Well, for now at least._

Soon enough they were all let in into the vestibule. Phil stood in line to buy his ticket; it was surprisingly expensive considering the size of the concert, but Phil did not mind one bit. He was going to die later that night anyway, so money was his slightest problem.

_I never thought that the last thing I would spend my money on would be a concert ticket._

With five more minutes until they were to be let into the concert; Phil mindlessly walked around the room looking at the posters; a program with the songs the where about to be played later dismissed in his hand. Most of these concerts he had already been to. He almost felt a sense of accomplishment realising how many of them he had gone to. Then in the furthest corner off the room he found himself looking at the poster for tonight's concert. It was smaller than most, but yet more classy than the majority of the other posters around the room. A jet-black background with a brown haired boy who Phil figured was the pianist himself turned away from the photographer and the text _"Daniel Howell at the city hall, October nineteenth"_ written at the top in italics. Phil was strangely mesmerised by the poster, it was odd really. It was so bleak and non-eye catching, yet he couldn’t let his eyes wander off it. A shrill female voice, laboured by many years of smoking, rag out over the local. Abruptly waking him up from his thoughts as it announced that they now were about to start letting people inside the concert hall.

_Well, here we go, nothing to lose, I suppose._

As he begun walking towards the entrance he reached into his pocket for the ticket, seat 104. The concert being played in one of the smallest concert halls meant that Phil's seat was right in the middle. Middle row, middle seat. People like a sea around him.

He was slowly walking towards his seat carefully monitoring the room around him. Due to its mere size this very room was rarely used and Phil could count the times he had been on a concert in this room previously on one hand.

_This is a really beautiful room. The designs are so intricate and welcoming. Why am I even thinking of this? Off all things I choose to reflect upon the furnishings. Wow._

As he reached his row he started looking for his seat, careful not to stumble on anyone.  
..99...100...101...102...103...104.. Finally!  


Phil being remarkably tall and the room being way more crowded than he had imagined resulted in Phil having a rather hard time reaching his seat. He did luckily make it through, even though quite a few people shot him som rather nasty glances when he clumsily shuffled by them.

_Why am I so insufferablely clumsy and tall?!_

Flushed to the colour of a tomato, he sat down in his seat trying to make himself as small as humanly possible. This too turned out to present quite a challenge, once again due to his considerable size. He checked the time on his phone gingerly, 5:59 pm. The concert should start any minute and Phil had mixed feelings about it. He looked forward but at the same time his nerves were through the roof and he had not felt this anxious in quite some time. If ever. He almost wished his poor heart would suffer a cardiac arrest from all the extra work it had to perform in the face of all his extra stress.

_I REALLY hope this is good, otherwise it will be kind of a low moment to end on. Eh._

Just like that the lights in the room started to fade and soon the room had been enveloped in impenetrable darkness. Ever so slowly the drop curtains started to drift apart revealing the scene. The stage lay in complete darkness as well, but just before people started to get confused about whenever it was actually going to start or not, a single spotlight started shining onto the scene and the pianist started playing. The song that he played was a piano rendition of the song “swim good”. Phil actually snorted out loud, maybe he should have checked the songs playing after all! He shook his head dismissively, a small smile still playing on his lips. He wasn’t all too familiar with the song but he could still pick out a few of the telling bars. Odd choice, but he liked it. Made the entertainer seem more real and less like a figure far away. Not only had the surprising choice of song made him smile. Phil also admittedly really admired the pianist (in a shit he looks good way), he was tall, had a nice puffy fringe in the opposite direction of Phil's own and when he smiled he showed off the deepest dimple Phil had ever seen! He frankly felt a smithereen smitten.

_Wow, that guy is crazy handsome._

So when he had played the last trembling tune off "swim good" and looked up, Phil did the same and they made eye contact. It was awful and amazing all the same. It was so incredibly awkward but those eyes! They where one of the most beautiful things Phil had ever seen. Such a delicate brown. Like pools of swivelling, rich chocolate.

Phil was seriously contemplating walking away out of pure embarrassment, but decided against it because that would mean that he would have to walk by all those people again but this time in the darkness. Darkness being the extra hindrance he didn’t need, nor did he think he would even be able to make it.

_Why did I have to make eye contact?!_

So Phil simply held his head down for the remainder of the concert until he begun playing "How to disappear completely", that song had meant so much for them. That song had been the one playing when Phil uttered his first words directed towards Isaac, "Great song, huh?". The song he had played when they shared their first kiss and the song Phil used to listen to when he could not sleep. And now thinking about it, the lyrics felt fitting to his current place in life. The lifetime of a song. Birth, life and now death.

_All these memories. It is all too much._

The song triggered such stron emotions inside of him that he started crying. Silently at first, but as even more memories came flooding down on him he started cry more and more but still as silently as possible. His breathing heavily laboured. The people closest to him clearly noticed it, but they tried to ignore him possibly out of courtesy, but when his breath suddenly hitched and became even more heavy and forced; someone figured that they probably should check on him.  
He had passed out, his body could not take it. It had all actually been too much to physically handle, let alone emotionally.

So the group of people closest to him figured that he could not just sit there, "we need to take him somewhere. What if he get left behind here or fall in worse condition!" They had said tentatively, no one really keen on taking on the task.  
So without disturbing the other concert goers more than necessary they gathered a few people who volunteered to carry him somewhere a tad more peaceful and safe. The woman who had been sitting next to Phil, had volunteered out off the kindness of her heart, to go to the reception and ask for a place where they could possibly put him. Had he been awake, he surely would have been mortified just at the thought of being such a inconvenience, and emotional wreck at that.

The woman came back just a few minutes later with a older woman wearing hornrimmed specs in tow.

"Oh dear, poor boy. Well, I suppose you could put him in Mr Howell's dressing room for now. I’m sure that nice young lad wouldn’t mind, he’s been such a pleasure" The old woman gushed.

"Thank you ma'm" The group had chorused, all of them secretly feeling like a holy Samaritan just from the act of helping one helpless man.

"Oh, it's nothing! If you would just follow me, I'll lead you to Mr Howell's dressing room."

Quite a few people probably turned their heads at the sight of that odd group of people slowly and carefully making their way towards backstage and its intricate musty smelling corridors, which probably hadn’t been repainted since the earlier parts of the previous century. Phil himself was completely unaware of the present events, simply because he was passed out in blissful unconsciousness.

So they put him on a tiny sofa in a equally small room and made sure that his breath was as normal as possible. They also discussed whether somebody should stay and watch over him but ultimately decided against it, as quickly as possible returning to their own seats and lives not giving "that poor boy", anymore thought. All though, since they had been away they were also oblivious to that even the pianist himself had seen the whole spectacle and he was quite frankly, very concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on la wattpad if you prefer: https://my.w.tt/UiNb/NAA8TtxG9J


	4. ~broke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am no loner worthy my Sherlock pins, for a short moment i forgot the address on Baker Street and my world is now in crumbs.
> 
> ...
> 
> Not meaning to toot my own trumpet, but this chapter is like maybe world record in odd metaphors in serious writing.

Dan was stood backstage, the concert was about to start in mere minutes and he was, without exaggeration scared shitless. Why wouldn't he be? It was the biggest thing he had done in God knows how long, and quite a few of the songs he was playing were not exactly beginner level.

_calm down, it's going to be alright_

He could hear the muffled shuffling emitted from all the people on the other side of the drop curtain. The soft murmur of "oh sorry”’s and "er, excuse me”’s. The room had about two hundred seats, and as the lovely lady in the reception had been kind enough to remind him, all off the seats had been sold out. Every single seat. Mind boggling. Especially considering the tunes he had chosen, and only haphazardly announced two days prior to the song listing pamphlets being printed. He was a mess.

When the clock showed five fifty seven pm, and the anxiety was eating away at his insides like hyaenas at a gazelle carcass, he had come up with multiple excuses as to why cancelling was the best idea. Yet his need for money to pay the rent over won his urge to quit. It was literally deciding between the least of two evils. So instead of quitting, like his heart really desired, he stood up, releasing a breath he he’d been holding for so long it felt as though the air had gone stale in his lungs.

_i taste like attic_

Snorting at the stupid thoughts his brain came up with he shuffled over to the gap between the two drop curtains and peered out with an air of resignation. All the same had the first thing he expected to see not been the first thing he saw, not even close. He hadn’t even thought he’d see that sight ever again, it was "seriously handsome raven haired stranger", sitting in the audience when _he_ was playing! Why? This was just marvellous development, because Dan hadn’t been nervous before.

_why! why is he here? whatever have i done to deserve this? pissed off some big-shot god? scored lowest karma to ever exist? is it a CURSE?!_

He then got a embarrassingly big scare when the nice reception lady silently snuck up on him and politely tapped his shoulder, ‘you're on stage in one minute Mr Howell.’ He shouldn’t and couldn’t really fault her, but his heart was going at 300 mph and he felt like screaming, which he apparently also did without meaning to do so.  
"Aargh" he yelped in fear before he realised his mistake and professionally brushed it off, "Er, oh, okay, thank you ma’am." he nervously blurted politely. Always polite, polite and too damn posh for his own good, at least if he ought to believe the northerners. At least no one could fault him now for being, “to damn eloquent dan, cut the chase, you’re with mates”. He was petty, and now - again - thinking of the wrong thing at the wrong time.

_it’s actually all lloyd’s fault i’m living here in manchester. but considering all he have done for me, my accent being the butt of every mancunians joke ever is a awfully low price to pay. god knows where i would be at if lloyd hadnt come sweeping me up when they chucked me out. of course that only served to make them resent me even further, my long distance boyfriend of only six month offering me a place to live, with him! Apparently i had “been too young” to move in with my YOUNGER boyfriend, but not too young to get chucked out without any lifelines. utter shits. lloyd on the other hand, he was just so full of love. who else would without question take in a person you’d only dated for a couple months into your home? give me friends when i had none, stranger in a city i didn’t know. lloyd had even helped me to that substitute Piano teaching stint. i loved him. i love him. i have everything to thank him. he saved me in so many ways. but no matter how many ways he saved and how much i loved him for it, i wasn’t able so save him. my love wasn’t enough to keep him alive. but he got me here and i will not let that go to waste. everything i do is a homage to him._

More or less turning a blind eye to the woman, he kept looking trough the gap in the curtains until he could actually see the lights in the salon start to dim and to his great fear the curtains start to drift apart. A signal for him to take his seat at the fancy, plush clad piano stool. He clumsily stumbled down onto the piano chair in the very last second. Because only a few short moments later one lone torch started to, at first bleakly, but soon brighter shine onto the stage with its mild yellow glow. As if on que Dan positioned his hands over the keys and begun playing. He barely even had to think as the first trembling tunes forced their way out of the glistening grand pianos wooden abdomen. He knew his choice of songs were unorthodox, but he had silently wished and begged that that was one of the factors that had drawn in this, in his eyes, enormous sea of people. At least the audience looked about the right age to be there for the songs, and not solely for the elderly clubs calm Thursday night entertainment. Only time will tell he thought sagely as the melody of “swim good” began to take form, the seventh song according to the programme, but he had forgotten the order the moment he went up on stage. So whatever happened happened.  
Even though he was at his best at this moment he couldn't truthfully say that he were a hundred percent focused. The whole time a tiny smudge of his consciousness was transfixed by the "seriously handsome raven haired stranger" from before and he couldn't help but sometimes take a sneaky glances at him. He was no more than human.

_fuck me. that guy is like unnaturally good-looking i bet he’s got like chiselled abs and a model girlfriend. would not put it past him_

It was so unexpectedly easy, every tune, every little click of the keys just came out so perfect. It almost felt wrong with how right it all went. It shouldn’t go this well! He was Dan, Bloody, Howell! Where were the myriad of mishaps and disappointments? As a effect off this, when he started preparing for the last tunes of ”swim good” he just felt so great, so content and mostly as if all his problems just seemed to melt melted away. Just melt right off his shoulder, seeping in between the broad and splintery floorboards.  
As the last tune started to ease away he looked out over his captivated audience, and he locked eyes with a man. Not any man but "seriously handsome raven haired stranger". Off all men.

He felt their eyes lingering on each other longer than necessarily proper and just as he found the strength within himself to tear his gaze away he started to blush furiously. The man had looked so innocent and fragile as If he was constantly on the verge to tears, but somehow he still succeeded to look both intimidating and seductive as well.

_that’s literally almost impossible, yet he’s pulling it off. am i projecting? likely._

His cheeks were burning and his mind cramped with thoughts, jumbling and ricocheting off the insides of his skull.

_what if I suddenly play wrong or he hates all these songs or if he thinks my fringe is funny or what if he thinks I'm bad or, or, or... no pressure though. i’m so screwed it’s laughable_

He couldn't believe himself. He couldn't possibly have chosen a worse time to fall into the pitfalls of crush having, or admiration, whatever was the appropriate term to define it as. A absolute stranger in the audience of his first for real performance.

_just fucking great. timing has always been my thing haven’t it_

He thought irritably, mis-hitting a key and completely messing up the timing for a short second.

Nervously he started playing the first tunes of Beethoven’s sixth symphony, if some of his choices were almost laughably unusual, the rest were the complete opposite. A nice mixture of the most classic of classics and simply his personal favourites. Felt natural, felt right.

The song was quite tricky and it would be lying to state that he hadn’t broken out into cold sweats a few times as his blunt, clumsy fingers just barely managed to not press the wrong key. By sheer luck managing avoiding creating complete disharmony.

_nevertheless this is what i live for_

He supposed he was about halfway through but he had truth to be told actually no idea, he could be nearing the end, could possibly still be early on. Time felt like such a foreign concept to him as he sat on his own world of waxed pianos, moth eaten draw curtains and soft easy tunes, chirping thier way out off the instrument with the same ease the blood inside him flew through his veins.

He had thought to close his act with it for dramatic effect, but following a self imposed schedule of songs was another concept utterly foreign on his momentary planet, so five songs early he started to play, “How To Disappear Completely”. The dramatesism would have been out off this world if he had actually ended with that song, but alas no. He’d have enough time beating himself up over it later. 

Just before he knew he would be to focused on playing he snuck on last cheeky eyeful of "seriously handsome raven haired stranger" before he completely immersed himself in his playing.

When he looked up again after finishing the song he was exhausted but happy, a wide grin splitting his face in two. Few things felt as satisfying as that feeling of wholeheartedly nailing a song like he just had done. But of course, because he was a hopeless, garbage human, his immediate action was to check "seriously handsome raven haired stranger"'s reaction. Only to find that all that meet his searching eyes were a row of empty seats where "seriously handsome raven haired stranger" and presumably company had been seated. It stung, it really did. He tried to scold himself into believing in any reason except their - his - disapproval of Dan’s playing, but he found himself drawing a blank. Whatever else reason could it really be?

All though it hurt a unreasonable amount, he found himself finishing the remaining four song in almost the right order, like a true professional. It just went by so fast, one second he was grieving one shit person’s disliking of his music (it was easier to think of it if he concentrated really hard on perceiving “hot guy” as an utter arse.) and the next he was dizzily stood up, gratefully drinking in the audiences generous praise. Just like that, as if they hadn't ever been open the curtains closed around him again, leaving Dan to get accustomed to the dark swallowing him whole.

_i actually did it_

"Mr Howell! You were amazing!" It was the elderly receptionist again and he couldn't help but smile.

"Er, thank you ma’am" he replied awkwardly, rubbing his neck in a excessively obvious sign of discomfort. "I'm going back to my dressing room to change, okay?" He muttered. It was almost embarrassing the way he faltered talking with people who had any kind of authority over him. After so many years in school one would imagine he’d get used to it, but oh-no, not our Danny.

"Of course, love! Just so you kn-" He didn’t meant to be rude, he really didn’t. It was just that she’d taken such a long breath between the two statements he had thought she was done and hastily put his earbuds in. Turns out she hadn’t been, but he was to awkward to admit his social ineptness and ask her to repeat herself. So he nodded convincingly and pretended he had clearly heard everything she’d said.

_fuckwit_

He was calmly treading the shortish distance back to his dressing room, softly humming along to the song playing in his headphones. The song he found himself listening to had funnily enough been one of the last rejects for his lineup, only just when he had been about to send the list over had he decided to scratch it. The song was when he thought about actually it rather shit and he had only had it saved because one of the guys featured shared the same name as him. (Oh, as if every want-to-be musician haven’t searched their name at least once on Spotify!)

Still humming softly and out off tune (humming along to a symphony orchestra is hard), he opened the door with the slightly chipped paint. Not in the slightest prepared, the sight that greeted him nearly gave him an heart attack. On the tiny sofa lay a man seemingly sleeping, but it was no peaceful sleep, he was twisting and turning obnoxiously in one of the most fitful sleeps Dan had ever witnessed.

All though as much of a oddity the situation already was for Dan it only got worse, the man on the sofa was in fact "seriously handsome raven haired stranger".

_this sort of stuff doesn’t happen to me i must be fucking hallucinating or something_

As Dan stood there completely baffled, still considering actually running away, the man on the sofa stirred wilder than ever before he seemed to ever so slowly wake up and a few seconds later he sat up blinking, rubbing his eyes. He looked so helplessly confused, but it wasn't until he noticed Dan that he actually woke up. Woke up in this context meaning primal scream.

"Aaaaaaah!" The man screeched, with a sleep gruffly voice deep enough to make envy coarse trough the veins of even the most talented opera singers. His eyes widening in horror as he realised that he wasn't actually alone in the room. Had the situation not been like it was, it might even have been humorous. Now it wasn’t, just pure unadulterated shock!


	5. ~Broken

Phil being confused was probably understatement of the year. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing there or how he had arrived there. Then it was that strange feeling in his gut telling him that someone was watching him. Incredibly unsettling. So he sat up and rubbed his eyes, clumsily, trying to see a bit clearer. When he then turned around he quite got his worst chock thus far.

"Aaaaargh!" Who ever the person stood in the doorway was, they had scared the ever living shit out of Phil.

Phil clutched his heart, his breathing fast and panicky. It was truly something out off one of the horror film he favoured so much. Waking up at a unknown location, watched by a stranger man. Who knows how many kidneys he might be missing!

_Have someone actually kidnapped me?_

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" The person in the doorframe choked out, "I really didn't know there would be someone in here" he seemed genuinely concerned, and wait hold up, why was he wearing a suit?

_I do kinda recognise him, but from where?_

Phil still hadn't said a thing, he pretty much just sat there with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Why exactly are you here, might I ask?" The gent spoke up again. Phil then realised that he had been asked a question and normally people asked questions because they wanted answers.

"Er, I don't really know?" He muttered quietly, a lilt on the end, edging his statement into a question.

_This is certainly awkward._

"Ehrm, okay... well this is my dressing room, so... you're sure you have no idea why you're here?" The lanky bean sprout of a human acted awfully awkward as he spoke to Phil. Running his fingers through his hair mushing up his sweaty curls even further.

_Not a clue_

"Well, er, I should probably leave anyway-" As he let the words spill past his lips he felt like something finally clicked in his brain and he understood where and why he was. He had been at that piano concert and passed out, and brought here? If that was the case then it meant that the awkward bean sprout was in fact the pianist himself.

_I have just made a fool of myself, haven't I?_

"Oh! Ehr, uhm, youcouldstayyoudonthavetobutjustifyouwantofcourse" The pianist, er, bean stalk, no, what was it? Daniel, said. He was staring forcefully at his own feet, showing obvious signs of discomfort.

Phil was tempted to say no, he really didn't want to deal with any kind of human interaction right now, but on the other hand, Daniel looked so uncomfortable and phil didn't have the heart to turn him down.

_Why now?_

Sure this Daniel seemed like a fairly good lad and he was okay good looking as well, but what was really the point of making friends now? Phil realised belatedly that he probably ought to answer before the other started to think he was some kind of mute.

"Yeah sure-" the tension in the air was thick and Phil had in a matter of seconds already started to regret his decision.

_Just get it over with._

"You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to. Not because I mind, just dont, if you dont want to, I mean-" He was in all honesty frankly rambling, and it was oddly adorable. Well, not exactly adorable, but just endearing, or something like that. Pleasant, maybe?

"No, no, it’s fine. You're Daniel right?" Phil faked enthusiasm and put on a equally fake smile, but Daniel didn't seem to take any notice, or maybe he was just too polite to point it out.

_Why couldn't I just have said no and left? Why?_

"Pretty much, but I prefer Dan... either way, what's your name?" For someone living in Manchester he spoke awfully poshly, phil mused to himself. Then another realisation dawned on him:

_Oh my god, we made awkward eye contact earlier, didn't we?_

"It's Phil" he answered calmly, despite the turmoil of secondhand embarrassment caused by himself whirling in his skull, "you can come in if you want, it's your dressing room after all, I didn’t mean to besiege it or anything-" Why was he so calm? He felt as if he should be more anxious than he was right now for some reason.

In lieu of responding Dan very un-agilely shuffled into the minimal room sitting down on the only remaining seat, a footstool that looked as if it was older than most of American History, but he didn't seem to mind at all really. Now it came to happen that they were sat next to each other with only a few feet apart, this because the room was basically a rebuilt janitors closet.

_This is definitely all too close for comfort_

The silence that fell over the room was suffocating and Phil felt a strong need to break the intensely uncomfortable atmosphere.

"So you're a musician or something?" Phil cursed himself horribly. Why had he said that? It was about the most accidentally mean thing he’d literally ever said.

_God help me, what I need right now is an in real life redo button._

"Uh - I'm trying" he sounded so awfully doubting, and phil hated himself so utterly in that moment for being the cause.

"Well, what do you like to do in your spare time then?" _This_ Was his most valiant effort at a save. Hopeless, like a frog without legs. 

Dan looked up, again meeting phil’s eyes with a look of almost relief. That was how badly phil had fucked up, he was actually relived they had changed subject. Phil was almost about to excuse himself and get up and leave but just then as he was about to stand up the other decided to answer, "well I like to _occasionally_ \- the life of a introvert - hang out with my friends, play video games and the piano. I know, awfully unexciting" he then proceeded to add, "how about you?"

_Despite my cursed mouth, he’s actually interested in what I like?"_

Phil frowned. This was something new, it wasn't like Isaac had been self-centred or anything; it was just that he rarely had asked Phil anything about himself, especially not when he for one reason or another had been cross with Phil. The littlest things and it was as though Phil barely existed in Isaacs life.

Phil sat there dumbfounded for a short while, what should he answer? Something as curtly as possible to get out off the situation or genuinely, to keep it going? Social inaptitude be damned, Phil no longer had the will power to leave. He was intrigued by this gentle, awkward giant of a pianist.

"Phil, you in there?" Dan asked gently, the shadow of a laughter in his voice.

_He is maybe pleasant -definitely pleasant - and he seems so genuinely interested in me. What is this witch craft?!_

__

"Oh yeah" Phil rubbed his neck and shuffled in his seat, "I don't really know, but like hanging out with friends, playing video games, listening to music. And I’m sure you’re perfectly excitable!" That last part had meant to be reassurance, but once it rolled past his lips he realised what else it also sounded like. 

__

_He must think I’m talking about his penis. Why phil, why._

__

__

Phil was so thoroughly done with himself.

__

Then it was silent again, an extremely uncomfortable one at that. Not that he had been looking or anything, but Dan had definitely been blushing, not that he had been looking. "Do you play anything?" Dan asked hoarsely, a mixture of pent up laughter and nerves present in his usually so soft voice. At that he also turned his head up a bit and gazed straight into Phil's eyes.

__

_He’s got like wow-factor level of beautiful eyes._

__

"Oh my god, no! My sense of rhythm is about as great as that of a sea-cucumber” Oh how he wished that that hadn’t been the absolutely honest truth.

__

"It can't be that bad?" Dan replied hopefully, apparently for some reason not quite believing Phil. Phil was glad he never would have to prove that to Dan, for his dignity’s sake and Dan’s ears sake. 

__

_Oh yes it can._

__

__

"Oh yes it can, you don't even want to hear me play because if you did then your eardrums would explode like, POW! BAM! PRAOBRAPANG!"

__

He was laughing and his laugh was so soft, it reminded Phil of better times. Of slow dancing in the lounge. Of five am midnight snacks watching the sunrise. Of Isaac. Of a future together. Of dying. "Amazing sound effects, Phil!" Dan quipped happily, unaware of phil’s inner torrent.

__

_Fuck_

__

"Well, thank you very much!" Phil was, once again, forcing a laugh. His throat burning from the falsely sugary sweetness in his voice, or maybe from tears threatening to spill.

__

"No problem, _mate_! Could you be a _top lad_ and please tell me what time it is?" Phil would normally probably have laughed at Dan’s ridiculous ways of addressing him, but now it felt like labour simply to breath.

__

"Uh, about seven thirty five I think-" Phil stuttered, astonished by the sheer fact that he managed to reply.

__

Dan started to mumble a few rather explicit curses that Phil had no intention to hear, "erm, you okay?" He asked worriedly. He couldn’t help to worry, even despit his current state.

__

"Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that I should have been changed and ready for action about five minutes ago-" he said rubbing his hand over his face tiredly.

__

"Sorry! It's my fault for holding you up! I'll be leaving right now!" Phil rambled feeling terrible - terrible-er - for holding Dan up when he was short of time.

__

_There goes another one, onto the pile of “reasons phil feels like shit”!_

__

Phil stood, up his legs slightly wobbly, his voice barely able to contain the shaky sniffle willing its way up his throat, "I'll just leave”. He felt the unsaid words lay on the very tip of his tongue ready to hop off his tongue into the "being saidness". Yet he for once managed to bite his tongue, swallowing down the words that so badly wanted to be said.

__

"No! Wait! Can I at least get your number?" He had grabbed Phil's shoulder, his nails digging into the fabric of Phil's shirt. Upon looking down onto the foreign hand on his shoulder he noticed bemusedly that several of the nails had _been_ painted a soft shade of succulent green, but almost all colour had now been picked off, leaving only a faint memory of something neat.

__

_like our relationship_

__

This was something new, Phil had never been one to make new friends ever so often and certainly not like this. "Yeah sure, it's, 004416116189912" Phil could his own phone number by heart and could probably have rambled it backwards as well but he didn't really see the point in doing so.

__

"Wait, can't you just put it in for me?" He asked offering his phone to Phil.

__

"Er, sure, I don’t see why not." So Phil grabbed Dan's phone out of his out stretched hand and hurriedly put in his number, trying not to see anything that could be private, but failing miserably at doing so as he accidentally saw a message from a "Chris the crab-noodle" reading, "hope the concert went well d-slice// Chrissy an bf (yes it's pj, who else would it be exactly?) xx"

__

_His friends seems nice enough_

__

"Thank you! I'll text you later, okay?" He looked so unreasonably happy for something simple, or maybe it was just phil’s mood making every ounce of happiness around his seem over the top and frankly unbearable. All the same he forced a smile.

__

"Yeah, I'll hear from you later, I guess?" This time it was Phil's turn to turn doubtful. Why the doubt hurt was beyond him, yet it did.

__

_He 100% only said that to be nice. This’ll be one of those thing where we exchange ten texts, at best, before it just dies on its own._

____

when it had come to this point Phil was stood outside the doorway and Dan on the inside, the door was about to be closed the only thing remaining were their goodbyes.

____

"Is this where we should have kissed?" Dan quipped in a mock-seductive voice, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. It would probably been pretty convincing if he hadn't had a sudden fit of giggles right afterwards.

____

Phil was in utter chock for at least five full seconds. What? Despite his initial shock he managed to compose himself and give an, what he hoped were, answer in the same tone, "No. No kisses until the second date." At least he hoped that it had sounded as sassy as it had done in his head.

____

_This is so not a conversation to have with your new mate. But what can you do?_

____

"God damn it! Well at least I tried!... Goodnight Phil, hope you have a good night!" And just like that the door was closed. Phil hadn't even gotten time to say goodbye, but it seemed like he had picked up on the joke at least.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phone number featured is not a real phone number (that i know of). it holds no connection to the real life world except the dialling code.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels like such a ending?? Why?? I swear it isn’t! It’s like two thirds left? Wtf? Either way, it gets kinda sad, i like it. Enjoy

"Aaaaargh!" The man, or what Dan prefered to refer him as, ‘seriously handsome raven haired stranger’ was sitting on Dan's chaise-longue-couch-thingy. His eyes stricken with horror, wide as saucers. Screaming with the ferocity of a wounded animal or an overtly excited ghoul. He clutched his heart and gasped for air, as if trying to avoid suffering a cardiac arrest.

Dan soon came to realise that the ‘seriously handsome raven haired stranger’ didn't exactly seem to be in a state of ice breaking, meaning he himself would have to smash the metaphorical barrier risen between them; so he awkwardly chocked out the first that came to his mind, “oh my god, I'm sorry!” He paused to contemplate what to say next. What came out wasn’t exactly the most eloquent or intelligent that had ever gone past his lips but he’d have to make do, “I didn't know there would be someone in here" what had he said sorry for really? It was his dressing room, but on the other hand there were ‘seriously handsome raven haired stranger’.

_this is too fucked up. i should leave_

The man still hadn't said a single thing. He kinda just sat there gawking horrifiedly. His eyebrows furrowed in a manner that was making Dan quite a bit uncomfortable if he was to be completely honest.

Despite this, Dan couldn't really bother to be cautious right now, no matter the weirdness of the situation, it was an absolutely grand occasion - he had never thought he’d get - to get his foot in the door so to speak. Even only for a moment. So he spoke again, "Why exactly are you here, might I ask?"

The situation just got less and less enjoyable as the seconds passed before the man finally opened his mouth and almost inaudible stuttered, "Er, I don't really know?" His voice was hoarse and almost edging on husky. Dan presumed that was an effect of the man’s previous quite sleep-ish state. 

_my fucking god what is this? i want to hate it but it's just so interesting in some fucked up way_

"Ehrm, okay... well this is my dressing room, so... you're sure you have no idea why you're here?" As the time passed Dan's previous mood consisting of anxiety fuelled excitement started to drop, or at least the excitement part of it. He stood rocking on his feet and twiddling with a strand of his hair. Two things so tell-tale signifying nervousness he might as well have spelt out what he felt with red marker on his forehead.

The guy was shifting uncomfortably, opening and closing his mouth nervously, much like a fish on dry land. Before he hastily mumbled, "Well, er, I should probably leave anyway-" That wasn't what Dan had meant! He had only wanted to know why his unironic man crush was sat in front of him, in _his_ dressing room, with crusty eyes and a horror stricken expression!

_no! i literally cannot let him leave ive got to at least get to know his fucking name. and why would it be specifically unironic? its always bloody unironic thats the whole deal with liking _ **both**_ guys and girls!_

So as the poster-boy for eloquence Dan spluttered out the first thing that came to his mind. For the sake of information, he did not run what he said past his brain before uttering. It just came in a gross word-vomit of uproarious nerves and complete ineptitude at conversation, "Oh! Ehr uhm youcouldstayyoudonthavetobutjustifyouwantofcourse!"  
Damn Daniel, back with those social skills! He felt as though he had humiliated himself to the point of switching complexion with a certain tobacco relative. And in the wake of his outburst, had he probably never before found his shoes that interesting before.

_ive honest to god never noticed that the sole on my left shoe is starting to come off at the heel_

"Yeah sure-"

Dan had been so invested in his sole problem that he had almost missed that the man had given an answer, but when he did notice he also noticed the fact that it was almost unlawfully awkward and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Truth to be told, he couldn't at that moment have been less bothered by the tension, and that was saying much coming from at least top five most anxious in The UK. But come on, one of the handsomest men he had seen, since like forever, had just offered to spend at least a few minutes in his company.

"You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to. Not because I mind, just dont, if you dont want to, I mean-" His heart was racing at a unfathomable speed, like current facing no resistance. And the words had spilt past his lips before he had even registered that his lips were moving. As usual when that happened, the result wasn’t too good.

_this is for real happening_

But there was this one thing. Dan possibly, if it wasn’t too early to admit, crushed on a person he didn't even know the name of, let alone the person in questions sexuality. It was more or less dead before it had even come to life.

_come on i dont even know his ruddy name! he might be a completely awful horrible person. Like maybe he eats children or something!_

The other, who prior had had a look of pure shock on his face now looked uneventfully calm and collected as he answered Dan’s question with a soft smile, "No, no, it’s fine. You're Daniel right?" He couldn’t pinpoint what, but it was something off with his smile. It didn’t seem false, it just didn’t seem really genuine, if that made sense. 

_what if he ACTUALLY is a horrible children eating psychopath?! considering that smile its more plausible than ever_

With those thoughts in mind Dan had both managed to get himself a bit riled up (thank _you_ vivid imagination) and almost laughing at the ridiculousness, which was quite a paradox really. He was kicking the threshold, worrying his lip between his teeth. Trying to contain all his silly emotions and thoughts, all the while trying to think of something intelligent and impressive to answer, "Pretty much, but I prefer Dan... either way, what's your name?" He was almost impressed with himself, for once he had managed to answer something that didn’t make it seem like he was ten years younger than his actual age.

_Calm and collected_

"It's Phil.” With slight hesitation the other -Phil- continued, “you can come in if you want, it's your dressing room after all, I didn’t mean to besiege it or anything-" He spoke in a calm, borderline bored tone of voice that could have worried Dan had he not been too self-conscious to reflect. Taking this as his cue Dan clumsily shuffled through the room and plopped down on the only remaining seat - unless he had chosen to sit besides phil on the sofa thingy, which was pretty much out off question - a footstool of more than ancient age. They were now sat just a few feet apart, their shins just barely touching. All the same Dan flushed at the contact.

_this is definitely all too close for comfort_

Now even Dan noticed how uncomfortable the silence was. Luckily it didn't last long as Phil soon opened his mouth to tell him something but then made a hiatus, thinking for a moment more before he continued and uttered, "So you're a musician or something?" Not because he thought he was some kind of big-shot or anything, but that did sound a bit harsh. And it didn’t exactly help his confidence either, thank you very much.

He didn’t want it to hurt, but it did. People didn’t just say those kind of things by accident. But Dan was better than that, he could stand a punch and still be politer than he should. So he was, “Uh - I'm trying.” Just because he could take it didn’t negate the fact that some (all) of the doubt and hurt spilled into his voice.

_god fucking damn it_

Phil seemed to notice the distress in Dan's voice because when he this time spoke up again his voice was much more friendly and he frankly sounded apologetic, "Well, what do you like to do in your spare time then?" So it seemed that for once Dan wasn't the one who moved the conversation forward.

_i hate myself for this but lets be real i can hardly be cross with him, not even for this. and either way why waste my time sulking it isnt like ill ever see him again_

By sheer willpower he willed the insecurity away. It didn’t exactly work but it was at least a valiant effort at trying to brush it under the metaphorical rug, "well I like to _occasionally_ \- the life of a introvert - hang out with my friends, play video games and the piano. I know, awfully unexciting. How about you?" He was strumming the rhythm of a song playing in his head, subconsciously on his thigh. Listening attentively for every word about to spill from Phils mouth.

A shadow of confusion and insecurity had come over Phil's face as Dan had proceeded to return the question and when Dan felt as maybe it had been a bit too long silence he piped up again, "Phil, you in there?" He laughed softly to indicate that he was nothing but friendly and curious.

Phil seemed to snap out off whatever had been captivating his mind, and Dan could almost see him mentally shake his head and refocusing on giving an answer, "Oh yeah" Phil rubbed his neck awkwardly and shuffled in his seat, "I don't really know, but like hanging out with friends, playing video games, listening to music. And I’m sure you’re perfectly excitable!" He knew that what he was really supposed to focus on was the first part of what Phil had said, but his mind couldn’t stop riling at the thought of all the ways the last part could be interpreted.

_he cant have been insulating anything about my penis. can he? no_

He couldn’t help it, he was blushing, blushing so damn hard.

Dan looked up from his reverie, facing the air of humiliation now existing in the wake of Phil’s accidental(?) penis comment, and more or less incidentally met Phil's beautiful ocean blue gaze. "Do you play anything?" He managed to get out over lips that seemed almost disconnected from his face due to how light-headed he had gotten staring into the azure pools that were Phil’s eyes.

At that question Phil looked up in utter shock as if the answer to that was about as common knowledge as grass being green and chocolate ice cream tastier than vanilla, "Oh my god, no! My sense of rhythm is about as great as that of a sea-cucumber." Dan didn't believe him for a second and to show that he shook his head subtly, almost subconsciously. That Phil was a modest man was far too obvious. "It can't be that bad?" Dan retorted hopefully, not quite giving up hope.

"Oh yes it can, you don't even want to hear me play because if you did then your eardrums would explode like, POW! BAM! PRAOBRAPANG!" Dan laughed out loud, he really enjoyed Phil's company. "Amazing sound effects, Phil!" He was beaming and his dimples were showing like never before. It felt so good to genuinely smile again.

_he makes me unreasonable happy, it almost feels wrong_

"Well, thank you very much!" Phil quipped back, that odd slightly off laughter evident in his voice again. Was it too high-pitched? Too sweet? Too much? Too bright? It was impossible to tell, just slightly wrong.

"No problem, _mate_! Could you be a _top lad_ and please tell me what time it is?" He didn’t even know whether it was accidental or not, but he felt how he, to make up for Phil’s ‘off-ness’ cranked up his bants multiple levels. To the point of almost making himself cringe. Almost meant definitely.

_either way i hope im not too late i definitely didnt have time for ‘this’ whatever it is in my schedule_

"Uh, about seven thirty five I think-" Phil stuttered. Why was he stuttering all of a sudden, had Dan said something wrong again? To focused on trying to understand Phil's sudden nervousness it took Dan a couple of moments to comprehend what Phil had actually said. Seven thirty five? But wasn't he ought to have been changed and back like five minutes ago? He tried desperately to remember and when he did he wasn't too pleased with himself. He was five minutes late and he hadn't even started to getting changed yet.

_stupid fucking git_

Dan started mumbling a select few of the worst swears he knew under his breath, cursing both his own stupidity and the God he didn’t belive in before Phil worriedly interrupted him, "erm, you okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that I should have been changed and ready for action about five minutes ago-” Dan said rubbing his hand over his face, exhaustion all of a sudden tearing at his body.

"Sorry! It's my fault for holding you up! I'll be leaving right now!" Phil rambled apologetically, hastily standing up and looking around, presumably making sure he wasn’t leaving any of his belongings behind.

"I'll just leave" Phil echoed himself, his voice hoarse and his eyes looked for the first time like he allowed himself to display the emotion he was actually feeling. Melancholy so painfully deep Dan had to look away. It almost felt shameful having seen something so pure and unadulterated, especially on such a filtered human as Phil.

"No! Wait! Can I at least get your number?" He had grabbed Phil's shoulder, his blunt, faded green nails digging into Phil's soft shoulder. He noticed how desperate and affectionate it had seemed and his cheeks immediately flushed a rosy pink, but he didn't really have the consciousness to be far too bothered.

"Yeah sure, it's, 004416116189912" Dan let out a sigh of relief as Phil just went out on a limb for Dan and gave him his number without hesitation. But numbers had sadly never been any of his admittedly few talents and before he had even unlocked his phone the number was completely forgotten. Gone with the wind.

"Wait, can't you just put it in for me?" He asked awkwardly not really wanting to give away the reason why. Extending out his arm, offering the phone to Phil.

"Er, sure, I don’t see why not." Phil thankfully muttered, grabbing Dan's phone out off his hand and hurriedly put in his phone number.

"Thank you! I'll text you later, okay?" He felt so disgustingly happy and when he realised that Phil's face at least didn’t display discontent, he felt if possible even more giddy.

"Yeah, I'll hear from you later, I guess?" This time it was Phil's turn to sound and probably, by the look on his face, feel doubtful.

_why would he doubt that_

At this point Phil was stood outside the doorway and Dan on the inside. The door was about to be closed, the only thing remaining were their goodbyes.

"Is this where we should have kissed?" Dan said in a sudden comedic outburst with a mock-seductive voice, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically for added effect. Not because he had gone for convincing in the first place, but with the fit of giggles he just barely managed to suppress it was anything but it.

On Phil's face there was displayed a sudden look of absolute confusion. Luckily he seemed to catch on fairly quickly as the confused frown started to melt away and he answered, "No. No kisses until the second date." God damn, Phil was just as sassy as he himself had tried to be! And you had to give it to him, the guy had a serious funny bone even in odd situations.

_we so should not even be having this conversation why did i ever lead the topic here? emotion of the day, REGRET!_

"God damn it! Well at least I tried!... Goodnight Phil, hope you have a good night!" And just like that he had closed the door. The silence was all consuming but all the same comforting. Contrary to popular belief, with him being a musician and everything, he preferred the quiet.

_maybe that was why we got along so well, me and lloyd. he was everything i lacked, everything i lack, im too loud yet i crave silence, he was quiet needing sound. i needed affection still do and he had so much to give. he was too lonely i was company. he was courage, white feathers and lavender soap. i was anxiety, sharp edges and the black keys of a piano. as much time as ive had thinking about us ive realised one thing. he needed me just as much as i need him and not only in the “im literally dying please dont abandon me way” but he needed me. actually needed me. i was needed. now im not not really. we had it too good thats why it couldnt last. i cant have good things. i kill good things. he knew he was doomed from the start, it was the diagnosis, we cried for weeks, especially i, begged for him to at last try the treatments, two percent chance of survival were still a chance! but he flat out refused, said he didnt want to put me through those painful treatments. i wasn’t sick, not anymore, my heart was healed, he was sick his body dying by the second. he told me to leave him, of course he did, then i flat out refused. could impossibly leave him. he didnt want me to see him ill, i didnt want to not see him. we got stuck on status quo. quo until it wasnt actually quo anymoe more like ‘the disease is spreading you only have a select amount of months left to live still dont want to try treatment’ no. of course he still said no. he still acted courageous, as though death and all didnt even faze him, but it did. i heard him on the phone to his mother crying so hard my heart ripped to pieces and got stomped on. he was no longer courage i realised, i had to be. then suddenly nothing was soft and feathery anymore, every touch to him felt like sharp edges bumping directly on his nerve endings. i had to be feathery soft and gentle. Perfume-y lavender was to harsh on him but piano music soothed him, _ ~~even~~_ especially the black keys. then when he died i started using lavender soap again, but black piano keys felt wrong. i wanted our middle ground back again. our perfect mix. i wanted to return to grey piano keys, but those doesnt exist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lloyds diseas is completely fictional, any resemblance to existing is purely coincidental. 
> 
> I know this concept of the same situation from boths perspective is kinda odd and maybe too repetitive? But i like it and i think it works with the story, so please bear with me, it works better later on! 
> 
> Comments and kudos makes my day! ^3^


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